


Sunday Morning

by padlockandpastels



Series: Sunday Morning [1]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/F, Ongoing story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 23:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10502034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padlockandpastels/pseuds/padlockandpastels
Summary: Heather gets kicked out of her house on a Sunday morning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> idk some headcanons i have in a story.

Much didn’t happen on Sunday mornings for Heather Mcnamara. She’d wake up at someone’s house after a Remington party. After a sleepover. Or at her own home--small voice echoing off the empty households’ walls. Her Dad wasn’t home ⅔ parts of the year, anyway. He was busy with work. That’s what Heather had been told since freshman year. Her family owned a jewelry company;

                                                                                    “ _McNamara Jewelers And Rings”_

 

The man had started it himself, after all. The pride was evident. It had begun when Heather was only two. The first location in her old home state of Maryland. The biggest local jewelry store, she had heard. And suddenly--as a result of the piles of rings and cheap necklaces sold, her lifestyle had begun to change. Her house got bigger. They moved across town. It was one of those neighborhoods the kids would run to on halloween because they would get more candy there. Then Heather was five, about to join kindergarden, when her Dad came home one Sunday evening beaming. Her Mom had turned from the table, wine glass in hand. So had Heather, dropping whatever crayon or flower she had in hand. A new location. “ _We’re branching out the business!”_ he had exclaimed. Her Mother had given a meek smile, eyes glassy.

 

They arrived in Sherwood, Ohio on a Sunday morning. The largest house Heather had ever seen, in some fancy gated neighborhood where she waved at the guards when she ran off to the bus stop every morning for school. She left her first sleepover with Duke and Chandler on a Sunday morning. Had some birthday party on a Sunday morning. Her Dad left for business trips on a Sunday morning. She had woken up her Mother on a Sunday morning in her church clothes--her Mom had slept in again, glass bottles scattered across her side of nightstand. Sunday morning when she’s 11, barely entering middle school when her parents announce the divorce. Her Dad was only home for two days then, suitcase packed and sitting near the door.

 

Sunday morning when she’s waiting outside her school after cheer practice a year later. Her Mom is supposed to pick her up this weekend. Heather paced back and forth across the rain splattered concrete. The woman lived across town now--she had moved out months ago, taking her pill and glass bottles with her. So it made sense she was late. Then 10 minutes passed. 20. An hour. Coach had to give her a ride home. Heather’s Mom never made an appearance after that.

 

So maybe scratch that. Heather had done a lot of things on a Sunday Morning. Tried to overdose junior year. Had kissed Veronica Sawyer for the first time on a Sunday morning. But this--this morning was different. New. _Terrifying_ . She sat out on the curb outside of her house, pet dog Elle trembling in her arms. Ha. That was Heather McNamara for you. She got kicked out of the house for liking _girls_ and she still managed to grab her six year old dog Chihuahua before being thrown out. Tear filled blue eyes glared back at the house, her gaze met her Father’s before he quickly let go of the blinds and they shuttered across the glass. Cars passed by on that Sunday morning on their way to church, or home. Dozens of eyes fell of the cheerleader sobbing on the curb. A few people stopped on their morning jogs. _Oh, It’s that McNamara girl._ And they would ask. What had happened. Why she was out there. She would give the same dull answer, eyes glossed over like her Mother had that one morning at the breakfast table on a Sunday morning. And they would frown, or uncomfortably smile. They would mention Kurt. Or Ram. Or give a few supporting words--then rush off. The interaction behind them.

  
The Sunday Morning faded to a Sunday afternoon as she staggered towards the only place she could think to go. Duke’s. The green girl had sneered--shut the door. Heather had let out a bitter laugh. Why was she even surprised at this point? Shoved away, she tiredly staggered towards the direction of Veronica’s house. Stumbled out of that gated community. She didn’t wave to the guards that time. Didn’t gap at the size of her now _ex_ neighbor’s homes. Ironic, wasn’t it? Her lifestyle had begun on a Sunday morning too long ago. Only made sense it would end on a Sunday morning too.


End file.
